


Never Again

by lil_aussie_girl



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 1st/2nd person, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, J2M, No Slash, reflective, sick!misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-10-10 23:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10449831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_aussie_girl/pseuds/lil_aussie_girl
Summary: Mish,I know you're probably not going to remember this when you wake up. I mean, you were so out of it last night, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't remember. But me and Jared, we aren't going to forget it anytime soon. We spent a whole night with you, worried sick - almost as sick as you were. I mean, really sick. I don't ever want to see you like that again, and I know Jared doesn't either.You really scared us, man. Please don't do that again.We mean it. Never again.EDIT: 2nd follow-up chapter added.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trying out a different style in this one. I've wanted to write a fic in this style for a while now, and then this plot bunny popped up and would not stop nibbling until I fed it.
> 
> Written in about an hour and half, really wanted to get the flow of thoughts, which wouldn't really have stood up to being written over a few days. That, and I was - apparently - just on a writing roll......
> 
> Maybe I should do more fics like this.......hmm.....
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The only thing I own here is my writing. Not Jensen, not Misha, not Jared. I only write about what I imagine them to be like and how I imagine their lives to be for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being gained from this work.

The sun is just peeking over the horizon now, bathing this part of Vancouver in the first glow of dawn. The breeze is chilled, rustling the leaves on the trees all around us. If you listen closely, you can hear the birds just starting their wake-up ritual.

It’s not uncommon that any of us are awake with the dawn; not with what we do.

But the dawn just tells us how long we’ve been here. And it feels like such a long time.

You shift a little as I think that, wouldn’t surprise me if you knew what I was thinking. Don’t worry, I don’t mind, neither of us really mind.

It’s just…...you scared us last night.

It was just gone 5pm when we first noticed that something was really wrong – I think we’d suspected all day, but you seemed to have gotten worse in the afternoon. It was nearly 6 when you ran off set. I heard you throwing up, I wanted to help, but you can be so stubborn when you’re sick.

Scratch that, you’re stubborn all the time.

So, I left you alone, believing that you’d seek our help if you needed it. 

It was just gone 8 when you collapsed.

It took both of us to get you to your trailer after that. We tried rousing you, but you were just too out of it, your fever already starting to spike. I reckon you’d had one most of the day, am I right?

The doctor came to see you, and told us that he couldn’t be sure about what was wrong with you. He told us to watch you closely, and to take you straight to the emergency room if your fever got above 107.

Well, it came pretty damn close to that.

I can’t help but remember the many hours we spent through the waning hours of last night; sitting worriedly at your bedside, mopping your fevered skin with damp cloths, trying to keep your fever down. It didn’t want to cooperate with us.

It just kept rising. We were sure it wasn’t going to stop. I think it had reached at least 104 by 10pm.

And the screams. Oh, your screams.

Every time you cried out, caught up in some horrid, feverish nightmare, my heart broke a little more for you. Your brain was trying to convince you that your reality was an illusion, and it scared you.

It scared me how scared you were.

Because whenever we could actually get you to wake up from those dreams, I still remember the look in your eyes. Pure, unbridled, savage fear, hurt, loss, and guilt.

I don’t ever want to see them look that way again.

Never again, you hear me?

You’re shivering again, drawing me back to the present, and I reach over and rest a hand on your forehead, not caring how it’s dripping with sweat. I can’t help but sigh in relief – it’s not as bad as it was, that’s good. 

You’re leaning into my hand, taking comfort in the feel of my palm against your head. I run my fingers through your tangled and sweaty hair. God, you’re going to beg us for a shower when you wake up next.

My companion shifts from somewhere behind me. He passed out on your couch around 4am, around when your fever finally lost the fight and started to grudgingly come down. I hope you don’t mind moose drool on your cushions.

I reach around and grab the thermometer. Thank goodness, the doctor had left us with one of the ones that goes in your ear: I really don’t reckon sticking anything in your mouth would have been a smart idea last night.

I take off its cover and slot it into your ear. You don’t even shift as the cold plastic touches your skin. Man, you’re really out of it still.

It beeps, and I take it out: 102.4 it says.

Okay, still high, but not as bad as it was. That’s something.

Oh, so now you decide you want to move?

You’re starting to shift uneasily, mumbles of air creeping past your lips, a tiny frown appearing on your face.

I sigh, the nightmares are back. Couldn’t they just give you a break and let you get some rest?

No, that would be too much to ask for.

Your muscles have started to twitch, one hand clenching into a fist, frown deepening as you fight off some unseen evil. Your breathing is getting louder, more ragged, and you start trying to toss around under the blankets.

“Hey, it’s okay man. You’re okay, everything’s alright” if I was you, I’d be getting sick of hearing those words by now; having heard them so many times throughout the night.

Shame it works about as well as it did last night: which is not at all.

You’re shaking harder now, foreign moisture joining the sweat on your face as breathy whimpers escape your lips.

You know, I’ve decided that I really hate that noise. Never again.

I’m rubbing your arm now, trying to reach your subconscious through the dark thunderstorm of a nightmare that seems to have you firmly in its grasp.

“Shh, it’s alright, you’re okay” I’m talking just a little louder now, still trying to reach you.

The next whimper is louder, more like a rough, broken sob, and my heart breaks a little more. What on Earth could you possibly be seeing that’s making you this upset?

Was it real? Is it something your imagination has cooked up because of the fever?

Or is it both?

God, I hate how useless this is making me feel.

I want to help you, I wish I could do something, anything, to help you. I hate seeing you like this.

It’s all I can do not to grab you and pull you into a hug right now. And if you ever find out what I just thought, well, I don’t know exactly what I’ll do.

Maybe Dann’s right; I am getting soft in my old age.

Something must have finally gotten through to you though; you’re starting to settle now. I can’t help but match my own breathing with yours as it slowly evens out. You’re hardly shaking now, finding comfort and peace in sleep once more, getting the rest your body desperately needs.

Good, because I reckon otherwise, we’d have to sedate you.

I trace my thumb along your cheeks, gently wiping away your tears, before resting my hand back on your shoulder and continuing to rub your arm.

You sigh in contentment, body steadily becoming more relaxed as the nightmare releases its hold on you. I smile as the only sounds I start hearing now are your snuffling snores.

Noise from behind makes me jump, and I turn to see Jared – bed hair worn proudly – blinking slowly at me from under his bangs.

“Morning, sunshine” I whisper, still careful not to wake you.

He just yawns at me. Typical.

I hear him stand and shuffle over to your coffee station – thank goodness yours is so quiet – and he starts making us coffee.

He hands mine to me wordlessly when it’s done, and I take a grateful sip.

“Thanks bud” I murmur appreciatively.

Then I taste the decaff.

“Son of a bitch!” I exclaim quietly, glaring up at my best friend. He’s hiding a smirk behind his own cup: jerk.

“Dude, what the hell?”

He shrugs and sits down beside me, taking great care not to sit on your feet.

“Jay, you’re exhausted, you need to get some sleep” he’s trying to reason with me. But I don’t want to be reasoned with: I’m tired yes, but I want my coffee.

I’m opening my mouth to protest, but a sneaky yawn is all that comes out. Jared’s smirking again. I really hate it when he’s right.

“Okay, fine” I grumble, but I’m secretly looking forward to some shut-eye. Just one thing is stopping me though.

Jared – being Jared – has clicked it. He’s looking at me now, all sympathetic. Damn it.

“Jen, get some sleep, he’s gonna be fine.”

Why does he have to be able to read me so well?

I’m nodding as I step past him and flop onto your couch. Nodding, and nodding off. Damn decaff.

I’m still watching you as I start to fall asleep. And just before I drift off, I see it.

A tiny smile, tugging at the corners of your mouth.

And now I can sleep. Because Jared is right; you really are going to be just fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misha woke a few minutes after Jensen had drifted off, and being alone gives him and Jared a chance to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little follow-up chapter with Mish and the Moose.
> 
> I've decided that I absolutely LOVE writing these two :)

_Fire._

_It’s burning all over me, frying my skin, singeing my hair. The smell makes me gag, if only I could breathe._

_The pain is so bad, I want to scream. I think I am screaming. There’s a noise coming out of my throat. It hurts though, and I can’t make myself stop. I just keep screaming._

_There’s something looming near me; I twist away from it, I don’t want anything touching me. I don’t want to burn them. That’s what happens when you touch fire, isn’t it?_

_The fire is in my throat now, cutting off my voice. I still try to cry out: someone has to hear me. I have to get out of here._

_My face is suddenly wet – where did that come from? It’s trying to put out the fire. I welcome its coolness and moan appreciatively as it drips down my face. Too soon, the fire is back, but then so is the water. What is going on? It surely can’t be raining here?_

_The thing is back, and it’s trying to touch me again. I’m too slow to move away from it, it catches me off guard. I scream as the thing makes contact – I can feel it rubbing, it’s not pulling away. I hope I’m not hurting it._

_The water is back again, and I’m starting to hear more noises. Muffled voices drift into my ears, but they’re too far away to recognise. I hope they’re friendly. They seem friendly._

_Pain is shooting through my body again, oh God, so much pain! My body starts to spasm and jerk as my muscles try to shake it away. The voices dim as the pain sends me down into the blackness._

 

* * *

 

It’s some indeterminate length of time later when I start becoming aware again. The fire is still burning, but the pain – mercifully – has dissipated. My eyes are far too heavy to open, but I can hear noise around me.

 

Not the noise I had been used to – the burning of the fire and my own screams. No, this is the sounds of morning: birds singing their greetings, leaves rustling in an early morning breeze, faint sounds of life.

 

This is puzzling me.

 

What’s puzzling me more was the fact that I seem to be lying down, somewhere rather comfortable, and surrounded by soft, warm fabric. Familiar scents drift into my nostrils, my sluggish brain suddenly connecting the smells and sounds with a place that I recognised.

 

What the hell am I doing here?

 

Keen to find out, my eyes crawl open, revealing the inside of my trailer. Yep, just as I was suspecting; but that doesn’t explain how I got here though.

 

My mind is fuzzy, my memory never the best when I first wake and I’m feeling completely well – let alone today.

 

That’s going to have to wait though, because I’ve just spotted something that’s confusing me even more – if that’s possible….

 

What is it, you might be asking? I’m not quite sure, myself, but it looks like one of my co-stars is stretched out on my couch – fast asleep, if that snoring is anything to go by – and the other is leaning against my bench drinking coffee.

 

The morning light streaming in from outside has filled the trailer with a kind of orange-pink light. Jared hasn’t noticed I’m awake yet – to be fair, I’m not even convinced I’m really awake, not really. You’re not supposed to be this tired when you wake up, are you?

 

Urgh, thinking makes my head hurt.

 

Scratch that, everything makes my head hurt.

 

A particularly harsh throb makes me groan and close my eyes, trying to burrow back into my pillow, but my muscles are not wanting to cooperate.

 

Jared chooses that moment to look up from his phone and shoot a glance in my direction. He looks tired – he doesn’t look that much better than me to be honest. Then again, I haven’t exactly been looking in a mirror.

 

Ow, too much thinking again.

 

“Hey, sleepy head” the moose greets me, tiredness disappearing quicker than a blink, a wide grin appearing in its place. He’s walking over to the bed and settles himself down on it.

 

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, putting a hand on my forehead. I hum in contentment; his hand is warm from holding his coffee, and it feels nice.

 

Jared chuckles and moves his hand away. I nearly squeak in surprise – I’d been leaning into his touch, and had apparently nearly fallen back asleep (he told me that later, amid quite a few chuckles).

 

He’s reaching over to the bench, grabbing a cup and bringing it back over. My vision is blurry with sleep and my eyes are hurting, so I accept the cup and straw, and slowly start taking a long drink. The rush of cool water is like heaven to my throat, and I’m suddenly very aware of how thirsty I am. I start trying to greedily gulp more down.

 

“Whoa, steady on!” Jared exclaims, taking the water away.

 

“Give it back” I try to growl, but all that’s coming out of my mouth is a high-pitched squeak. Jared loses it right then, putting the water on the bench to prevent him from spilling it. His chuckles quickly turn to quiet laughs, and he’s grinning when he turns back to me.

 

“Oh, man. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, but your voice right now!” He’s laughing again. I’m too exhausted to be cross – hey, if the roles were reversed, I’d be laughing too, so I don’t really blame him.

 

Jared eventually stops laughing, and looks back at me, a small smile still on his face.

 

“Seriously though, how’re you doing?” he asks, voice quietening back down to barely above a whisper.

 

“Honestly, I feel like crap” I reply hoarsely “what the hell happened?”

 

Jared frowns a bit at that, and looks down at his hands.

 

“Do remember working last night?”

 

I copy his frown, wondering what the hell that has to do with-

 

Oh. _Oh_.

 

Oh shit.

 

My eyes widen and meet his again, and suddenly I’m being bombarded with hazy memories of last night.

 

Spending all of yesterday feeling like total and utter shit. Spending the morning – when I wasn’t needed on set – in my trailer curled up and trying to coax some warmth back into my shivering body. Shedding most of my costume minutes later because I was starting to overheat. And then hastily replacing it when I was suddenly needed on set.

 

The memories get hazier as they progress. I barely remember what scene we were filming; just how crap I was feeling. I felt like every move I made was going to end with me faceplanting the floor.

 

I’m getting flashes of memories where I’m around the back corner of the stage – out of sight – and vomiting harshly onto the asphalt, although there’s not much coming up.

 

My last memory is Jim yelling “Action!” before we started a take.

 

Next thing, I’m here, and it’s morning.

 

Which brings me back to how the hell I ended up here.

 

I’m frowning as I glance back at Jared; hopefully the question is clear enough in my face, because I don’t think I can stand another round of Moose teasing.

 

Thankfully, Jared is brilliant at reading faces, and he answers my question for me.

 

“Yeah, we brought you back here. We couldn’t send you home like that” he’s suddenly very preoccupied with his hands.

 

The corners of my mouth are turning upwards, curling into a smile, as warmth tingles across my body. A warmth which – I’m pretty sure – had little to do with the mountain of blankets currently creating a comfortable cocoon around me.

 

“You didn’t-” I start, feeling slightly embarrassed.

 

Jared’s hand goes up in a silencing gesture.

 

“Yes, we did, and I’m glad we did” his voice drifts away at that, swallowing hard.

 

Huh? What am I missing now?

 

Jared just sighs.

 

“We were so worried last night. I mean, you just went down so suddenly, and then we couldn’t wake you up. And then the doctor couldn’t say what was wrong, and your fever just kept going up, and you were having these horrible dreams, and you kept screaming, and Jen and I couldn’t stop it-”

 

“Jared, you’re rambling” I interrupt softly, lifting a lead-weighted arm to rest on his shoulder. He looks down at me, eyes shining, obviously exhausted but also – and I am touched to note – clearly worried.

 

I swallow past the guilt starting to creep up my throat, imagining myself in their shoes. I don’t want to, actually. Snippets of my dreams last night flashing by my eyes, and I find myself thankful that the memories aren’t that clear. But I’m also sorry that Jared and Jensen had to see – and remember – what those nightmares did.

 

Geez, depressing.

 

“We really thought-” the poor Moose can’t finish, he’s turning away from me now, but I can see his shoulders start to shake.

 

Oh Jared, you really care too much for your own good sometimes.

 

I push myself up onto my elbows, and – ignoring the spinning of my head – reach up and pull him into a hug. He wraps his arms around me, and rests his head in the crook of my neck.

 

To his credit, he collects himself rather quickly, but in that time, I’ve nearly fallen asleep again. Jared notices and lets out a warm, rumbling chuckle. Instead of laying me back down, he simply shifts so that my head is on his shoulder, rather than the other way around. My eyes are half-closed and my mind is starting to go fuzzy as it wanders back to sleep. Jared shifts again, and starts rubbing my back slowly.

 

He's warm, and a great hugger. I really get why the fangirls go wild over his hugging skills at conventions. Our usual hugs are ‘bro-hugs’, usually given as a greeting, and the contact is actually very brief.

 

This hug though, is a full-scale Moose comfort hug; experienced by a privileged few.

 

And so, to that end, I snuggle into the crook of his neck and close my eyes, sleep taking me over moments later.

* * *

 

**THE END (for real this time......)**


End file.
